


To Hel and Back

by 12u3ie



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Gen, Hels!Hermits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:46:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27369010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/12u3ie/pseuds/12u3ie
Summary: Grian will do anything to get away: from the pain, from the grief, from Sam... Even venture down into the depths of Hel.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	1. Gone

In both senses of the term, humanity was gone. The whole world was destroyed, leaving only an island floating in the void. There were no stars, no planets, nothing but that island. Atop it were three ~~friends~~ ~~people~~ beings and their house. Nothing more, and (unfortunately) nothing less. Grian sat as he always did, feet dangling over the edge of the island. _I could jump. I could just jump off into the void._ He sighed heavily. _No. There’s nothing down there, and I might just end up back where I started._ Thinking about the same thing day after day may have been monotonous, but at least he knew where it was going. He knew what would happen next. No more surprises.

“Hey Greeon! How’s it going?”

  
Grian cringed at the sound of his own name. _Why won’t he stop saying it like that?!_ His eyes remained fixed on the empty space in front of him as footsteps approached from behind. Sam sat down next to him, mimicking his dangling feet and slouched posture. “I said, how’s it going?” He playfully elbowed his friend in the arm, trying his hardest to remain friendly. Grian saw right through his sugar-coated bullshit. He glanced at Sam, their eyes locking for a split second before Grian snapped his head away. He couldn’t look into those eyes without seeing the school, his teachers, his classmates, _his friends, their bodies…_ Grian shook himself out of his thoughts, finally replying to Sam with a disgruntled sigh.

  
“I get it, Greeon. It’s been a while, but grief isn’t something that comes easy.” Coming from anyone else, those words might been helpful, said with at least a fraction of truth behind them. With them coming from Sam, they were said with an unaffected, emotionless smile that made Grian’s skin crawl. “Grief takes time. I mean, for some people it does. Me on the other hand…” He put a hand on Grian’s chin and tilted it towards him. “I’ve already gotten over it. Maybe it’s time you do too.”

  
Grian grabbed Sam’s wrist, pushing it away. “Leave me alone,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

Sam popped up, brushing off his pants and shrugging. “Alright. Suit yourself, Greeon.” He did as his classmate asked, turning around and walking away. Grian watched as he walked back to the house, a slight bounce in his step.

  
“How can he act like that?” he asked himself, knowing well what the answer was. “How can he just pretend like nothing happened? How can he be… happy?” He sighed once more, turning to face the void. “I wish I could forget. I wish things could’ve been different. I wish, I- What could I have done?!” he cried, his tears following the same path as yesterday, rivers through a valley.

  
He felt a hand gently press against his back. “I thought I told you to leave!”

  
“Hey, it’s okay.” His voice was gentle and familiar, that of a friend.

  
Grian sniffled, rubbing his nose with his sleeve. “I’m sorry Taurtis. I didn’t-”

  
“Shh,” he cut him off. “It’s okay. Just let it out.” He continued crying as Taurtis rubbed circles into his back, eventually sitting down beside him. “I know this isn’t easy. It’s okay to cry.” His friend began to shed a few tears himself, for the most part staying quiet.

  
“I really am sorry though. I was su- supposed to protect you, and I- I-” Grian decided it would be best to give up on talking right now. Taurtis had heard it before. Taurtis knew. Taurtis understood. _Taurtis knew._

  
“We’re all sorry, G. Well,” he said, glancing back at the house, “at least two of us are. It’s okay- not okay, but… fine. We’ll get through this together, just like we always have.”

  
“No we won’t.”

  
Silence settled around them, broken only by Grian’s sniffles. Taurtis sighed. “Yeah,” he whispered, “…yeah.”

  
The two sat there, unmoving, not a word spoken, for what felt like hours. There was nothing left to say, nothing left to do, nothing left. There was no hope, no one who could rescue them, no one left to tell them everything would be okay. Nothing was okay, and it never would be again. They were trapped on an island together in the middle of space: the three who ended it all.


	2. Late

The air was thick, his heart was racing, and he was late. 

His feet carried him down the worn brick road, swiftly dodging the many potholes that littered it. He’d always been good at avoiding the cracks, his feet barely touching the ground. To the other pedestrians, he was a bouncing blue dot who stopped for no one. His hurried nature was shrugged off as just “blue sweater guy being blue sweater guy.” Little did they know he was late for work… again. _One more tardy and I’m sent to the pit._ He shuddered at the thought. An old friend of his was taken away just a few short weeks ago. When he closed his eyes for a second too long, he could still see Mason being shackled up and dragged off. Mason’s cries for help littered his nightmares, and him being the only one who noticed didn’t help either. He shook his head, clearing his mind as one would an Etch-a-Sketch. He had to focus; he couldn’t slow down; he couldn’t be late. 

He swerved his way around the crowd like a maze, an ever-changing one he knew all too well how to solve. He accounted for everyone who would get in his way - usually on purpose. He calculated their walking patterns: which way they’d turn, the length of their strides, their speed and acceleration. He was much more analytical and logical than most people gave him credit for. Many saw him only as a guy in a blue sweater, but he was so much more. 

His eyes darted between each side of the street, trying to spot his office over the heads of the crowd. A quick glance at his watch solidifies his fears: five of nine. “Crap, crap, crap!” he mutters to himself, picking up his pace. He cursed his shortness; he couldn’t see above the crowd and his legs were far too small for rush hour. 

He spotted the building just a short way ahead. Gripping tight to the satchel at his side, he quickened to a run. Sweat was dripping down his face. The hot days around here were also not very good for his commute. He glanced down at his watch one last time, keeping one eye on the shifting crowd. “Two minutes, two minutes.” He nearly passes the building, turning on a dime and rushing up to reception. 

“Hi Annie,” he panted with his hands on his knees. “How are you today?” 

She glared up at him from her computer. “Not late. And neither are you.” She held out her hand, her gaze shifting back to the screen. After a short amount of rummaging through his bag, he handed her his card. Ripping it out of his hand, Annie placed it on the desk and stamped it. Eyes glued on the computer again, she tossed the card back over to him. 

“Have a good day, Annie!” he called as he rushed to the elevator. 

She sighed, tired of his newfound happiness. “And a horrible day to you, Xelqua.”


End file.
